


Spreading His Wings

by PenguinofProse



Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canonverse therapy, Fields of Gold universe, Jackson finds himself, M/M, and helps a bunch of other people find themselves too, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Fields of Gold universe. In which Jackson discovers his true calling in life. Some Mackson and appearances from other characters, but focused primarily on Jackson's journey.
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927285
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	Spreading His Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stormkpr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/gifts).



> Here's Jackson's POV for "Fields of Gold" to say thanks to Stormkpr for all the work and attention to detail she puts into betaing my fics! It hasn't lined up perfectly with FoG and friends for which I apologise, but please don't come at me for continuity errors. Happy reading!
> 
> Content note: references to depression, anxiety, PTSD. Lots of material relating to both physical and mental health. Mention of Raven's disability and her emotions around it.

Jackson is one of the lucky ones.

He knows this. He's been telling himself he's one of the lucky ones three times a minute since he disconnected this morning.

So why does he not _feel_ lucky?

He's fine. Objectively he knows he's _fine_. Everyone he loves is real and healthy and alive. Sure, his parents are as dead as they've been for the last decade or so, and that's not ideal. But it's an old wound, and it doesn't explain the crushing sadness he's feeling in this moment.

He doesn't deserve to be sad. Yes, he's experienced some upsetting things – but nothing on the scale of the trauma that Clarke has gone through, for example, shooting her closest friend to protect the daughter she's now lost. Jackson's role as a bystander to Blodreina and an easily-swayed taker of the chip doesn't even begin to compare.

And yet his eyes have been damp all day. He's not sure quite what's wrong. Maybe it's just the shock of realising he was living a lie. Maybe it's the heartbreak of watching Nate walk off down the hallway to his father's quarters, and wondering if he'll be heading in search of Bryan later, too.

Maybe it's more selfish than that. Maybe he's wondering what his purpose will be, now, returned to his old life. He's spent six simulated years building up considerable medical expertise, and grown used to being the head doctor of Skaikru since Abby's election and then addiction and then death. Maybe he's just throwing an immature tantrum at the thought of being less important, now, and going back to being her apprentice or sidekick.

He suspects that, in reality, it's all of those things, tangled up with the sheer helplessness of watching people he cares about go through hell and come back to face the flames all over again.

…...

It's evening by the time he tries to pull himself together. His first evening back on the Ark – or at least it feels that way, even though he knows that, physically, he has been here all along.

He's a doctor. And he's had to become something of a therapist in the recent simulated past, too. So he knows a thing or two about self care. And he knows that sitting here upset, and feeling guilty for being upset, is not going to help at all. He lives alone, just as he used to before the simulation, and that can't be helped. But he figures he can at least try to seek out some company for the evening to lift his mood. As a doctor he's always found it very therapeutic to help others – perhaps if he finds a friend and invites them to talk about their own experience of disconnecting, it will take his mind off his own petty confused loneliness.

The question, though, is which friend to find.

Abby has always been rather a maternal and comforting figure to him, but he can't go to her now when Clarke must be occupying all of her time. He was surprised enough that she took three minutes out of her day to be there for his disconnection this morning. And anyway, he doesn't feel much in need of a motherly hug right now. He wants to get on with being the adult he learnt how to be on the ground. Sure, Sanctum was grim, but at least Jackson was beginning to hope he might get to settle down and live a life of his choosing there as an independent young man, after the final war.

He can't go find Nate, of course. Nate has moved back in with his father. And that's all well and good.

It must be nice to have a father.

He wonders who else he could ask. He has precious few close friends, when he looks at it like this. Clarke and Bellamy and Octavia will all be dealing with their own troubles, right now. Indra and Gaia don't exist, which makes him feel sick to the pit of his stomach when he thinks about the years he spent bonding with them in the bunker.

He settles on going to see James in the end. The young engineer is not exactly his closest friend – that title was obviously reserved for Nate, who Jackson has long since grown used to thinking of as his best friend as well as boyfriend.

Is he still either of those things? With this new chapter and these old faces, are they still together? He doesn't even know.

So, anyway, he's off to see James. They were in the same year at school, once upon a time, and they used to hang out together sometimes in the bunker. He's a decent friend, all things considered, and Jackson is pleased with his choice.

He picks himself up off the bed and heads for the door. He turns the handle and opens it wide, determined to stride straight out into the hall without a pause.

But he does pause. Because there, before him, fist raised as if about to knock, is Nathan Miller.

"Nate. Hey." Jackson cannot help the bright smile that spreads over his cheeks. It's just instinct by now.

"Jacks." Nate doesn't hang around to smile. He gets straight on with stepping forward for a resounding kiss.

Huh. Well, then. Seems like maybe they're still together. That's one less thing to cry about, at least.

"I should have thought to ask you for the apartment number." Nate says, laughing lightly, while he strides into the room as if he owns the place. "It's stupid but it didn't even occur to me. I didn't clock that there was a time before we knew each other."

That's a nice sentiment, Jackson thinks. But he's still feeling rather wobbly here, he doesn't mind admitting it.

"I wasn't expecting you." He says carefully, scanning around the room, judging himself slightly for the shoes and clothes out of place on the floor. Normally he keeps the place immaculate, but he just hasn't felt up to it, today.

Nate frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't know you were coming over."

Nate frowns even harder. "I don't get it. Is this some kind of joke? You're not – are we OK?" He asks, visibly alarmed.

Jackson nods a little frantically. "Yeah. I hope so. I just didn't know you'd be stopping by."

"What did you think was going to happen?" Nate asks, still evidently puzzled. "I only said I was going to call in on my dad."

"I thought you were going to stay with him." Jackson admits, eyes fixed carefully on one particular out-of-place shoe.

"Stay? As in – _stay_?" Nate sounds somewhat annoyed now, and Jackson kind of regrets mentioning any of this at all. "We've lived together for six years, Jacks. Of course I was planning on heading over here as soon as I'd finished catching up with my dad. But then I couldn't find the place." He gives a hollow laugh. "You're not saying you don't want me to -?"

"No. No, of course I do. I just – things have changed a lot today." It's the understatement of the century, probably.

Nate doesn't seem annoyed, now. No, he seems over half way to furious as he seizes Jackson's hand and squeezes it tightly - or perhaps only very _fervent_. "Not this, OK? Not for me, at least. Please tell me it hasn't changed for you."

"No. Never. I love you." It's the easiest thing he's said this whole conversation, he's pretty sure. Finally, some words he has faith in.

"I love you too." Nate says, as if it ought to be obvious. "You really thought I was about to ditch you and move back in with my dad?"

"I don't know what I thought."

There's a moment's silence. Jackson can feel himself tearing up and he's frustrated with himself for it. A stupid misunderstanding about his relationship and his boyfriend's address is _nothing_.

He's one of the lucky ones.

But still he feels shaken and disorientated and oddly fragile.

Nate spots that, of course. He steps forward, pulls Jackson in for a resounding and all-encompassing hug.

That's it. That's the moment Jackson understands he really is one of the lucky ones. He holds his boyfriend tight in his arms and allows himself to weep into his shoulder for several long minutes.

…...

It's not until the following morning that Nate gets round to asking the question.

"Where were you going last night? When you opened the door in my face?"

Jackson shrugs – or tries to. It's difficult to shrug when they're lying spooned in bed.

"Thought I'd go call in on James. I thought I could use some company."

Nate presses a kiss to the back of his neck. "You really thought I would just... leave you like that?"

Jackson shakes his head at once, snuggles a little deeper into Nate's bicep in the process. "No. Not at all, not on a logical level. But – I don't know. I wasn't feeling good. It was pretty lonely, waking up here where everyone else's loved ones are still alive, coming home and realising my parents are still dead. But I shouldn't complain. I know I've been comparatively lucky."

Nate snorts. "Complain at me as much as you like. No sense in feeling guilty about it. Just because your friend's lost a leg doesn't make your sprained ankle any less sore."

It's just what Jackson needed to hear – both a little reassurance that he's allowed to struggle with adjusting to disconnection, but also a lot of reassurance that this man is still the Nathan Miller he met and fell in love with on Earth. He's still got that same blend of steadiness, compassion, and no-nonsense pragmatism.

He's still got the same strong arms, too. And – yeah – Jackson is certainly appreciating those, right about now.

…...

Jackson goes back to work as soon as he can. It's good to be back in med bay, helping people, feeling a sense of purpose and embracing his calling to heal others.

But it's useful to him on a practical level, too. In the precious few quiet moments where no one needs him, the appointments where patients cancel or the calmer hours on call in the dead of night, he starts reading. He searches out some old papers about mental health written on Earth before the bombs on the Ark server and makes a point of doing some study. He wants to understand what's going on with his head.

He thinks he figures it out, more or less. He's still grieving his parents – that's not uncommon, to be struck by old grief when there's a new shock to the system. He's obviously struggling to process the sudden change of disconnection, too. And he's feeling a sort of combination of guilt when he considers his failings on Earth and low self esteem at his return to his old status as junior doctor on the Ark, alongside the helplessness of wishing he could support his friends but not knowing where to start.

He's pleased to have access to all this reading material, at least. It certainly beats trying to muddle his way through helping Madi with her anxiety in the simulation on instinct, and on the precious few fragments about mental health that were included in his training years ago. It's simply not a topic that is discussed or studied much on the Ark – the official explanation is that there aren't the resources and that personnel are needed in more essential areas, but Jackson thinks that mental health is pretty damn essential, and is beginning to suspect the truth might be a bit grimmer than that. He wonders whether maybe the Council don't mind if a depressed person floats themselves once in a while and saves resources in the process.

It's a big issue. Too big for one junior doctor to fix single-handed, certainly. That's very apparent to him, as he watches Abby rush frantically around med bay and Clarke move through her duties with a sort of heavy slowness.

Maybe if he keeps reading enough of these papers, he'll figure out how to do something to help them sooner or later.

…...

It takes him by surprise, his first opportunity to try out some of this newfound knowledge on someone other than himself.

Raven's in to have her contraceptive implant renewed. It's a simple procedure, and one Abby has cheerfully trusted him to do by himself. He did more complicated medicine in that simulation, after all.

"Hi, Raven. How are you feeling today?" It's a fairly standard question, just to check that the patient is not nursing some virus or feverishness before he gets underway.

Raven frowns, though. "Fine. Great. Everything's great." She says, in a tone that suggests she doesn't quite believe it herself.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Jackson asks calmly.

She laughs a hollow laugh. "I don't know. I'm here for my implant, aren't I? I'm not sure what you can do about the rest of it."

"The rest of it?" He says, moderating his voice carefully, in the hopes of sounding kindly curious rather than nosy.

There's a pause. Raven fidgets in her chair. Jackson sits calm and steady, trying to encourage her to feed off his quiet confidence.

"Is it bad that I miss my leg?" Raven asks, all at once, the words falling out of her in a rush.

"I don't think so." Jackson says, voice level. "You miss your leg? Would you find it helpful to talk about that some more?"

"I miss being disabled. Isn't that sick?" Raven asks, wringing her hands. "All those times we were in that damn simulation all I could think was that I wished I would wake up one morning and just be... healed. And now I guess I've got what I wished for."

"Do you know what you miss about it?" Jackson prompts.

"I'm not sure. It's like – it had become a part of me. Without it I don't know who I am. I spent years being proud of how well I was coping with it and how awesome I still was, even with my bad leg. So now – who am I?"

"You're still Raven Reyes." He says easily. "You're still that same strong person who overcame so many challenges on Earth and in space and on Sanctum. But it's understandable that it's taking you some time to adjust."

"You think?"

"Yeah. It's quite normal. Have you got a minute? Do you want to stay and talk about it a little longer?"

She doesn't stay a _little_ longer, in the end. Rather, she stays a whole half hour, and tells Jackson everything about the guilt and confusion of thinking she's supposed to be one of the lucky ones, but feeling sad all the same. They talk at length, too, about that crucial question – _who am I now?_

It's a question Jackson thinks half the Ark must be asking themselves, at least.

He enjoys the conversation. That's maybe odd, seeing as it's a conversation about sadness. And it's odder still considering Raven is sad about some things similar to those things he has been sad about, too, of late. But he finds it's very fulfilling to help Raven find herself somewhat once more.

When Raven eventually stands up to leave, she gives him a nod and a tired smile.

"Thanks so much, Jackson. That was really helpful. You're good at this stuff." If there's one thing he knows about Raven, it's that she doesn't lie to protect people's feelings, so he figures she must really be telling the truth, there.

"Any time. I mean it. Come back if you're feeling low."

"I will. Definitely."

With that she is gone, striding off down the hallway with a little of her old confidence returned to her step.

…...

He starts to get more deliberate about it, after that. He makes a point of checking in with people like Jasper and Harper who he thinks might be vulnerable, based on their past history.

There are other people he doesn't check in with, at least not quite so openly. He's not sure what to do about Clarke, for example. Somehow he finds the idea of outright asking her if she wants to talk a bit intimidating. So it is that he works around it and talks to her about things other than the state of her head – and anyway, he figures it's healthy for her to have a little normal conversation in her life, rather than everyone asking her how she's coping with her grief every five seconds. Jackson is far from being arrogant enough to imagine he is the first person she would want to share her innermost feelings with.

"Nice job on that appendectomy this morning." He tells her, today. These are the kind of little words of support he likes to offer her.

"Thanks, Jackson. I think it went more smoothly than my last surgery. Definitely felt less stressful."

"Yes, you seemed really calm. You're learning quickly, Clarke."

She brightens at that, so he pushes it a little further.

"It's good to see you working hard at something you enjoy. Great progress!"

She looks genuinely over the moon – whether it's the compliment or the confirmation that she's allowed to quit leading and start healing, now, he's not quite sure.

…...

Word spreads – in a good way. People start to recognise that talking about mental health is a thing Jackson does.

Nate is really proud of him, and that warms his heart.

"Harper was going on about that mood journal you're having her keep." Nate says this evening. "She wouldn't shut up about it at training today. She's obsessed with it."

"I think that's a good thing." Jackson says thoughtfully. "If she's really embracing her treatment it's more likely to be successful."

Nate laughs kindly. "That's not why I was telling you, Jacks. You can analyse how effective it's been when you speak to her next. But I was telling you because I wanted you to know that you're doing good work. You're helping people and they're grateful for it."

Jackson feels his face heat. Nate pays him compliments all the time, of course. But normally they're about his kindness or his body or his skill in bed.

It makes a lovely change to be complimented for trying to change life on the Ark for the better, one mood journal at a time.

…...

Jackson gets his first explicitly mental-health-specific appointment in the form of Murphy rocking up and demanding to be booked into his diary.

"Can I ask what it's for?" Jackson asks mildly. "I need to know how long to book you in for."

Murphy shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Uh. Raven said I should talk to you."

Wow. This is interesting. Murphy and Jackson were never close in the simulation, until perhaps those last few days in Sanctum. Jackson finds himself remembering rather vividly that crisis with Sheidheda and Murphy's disparaging remark that Jackson _couldn't fight to save his life_ – as if fighting prowess was the be all and end all.

"You mean – _talk_?" He clears his throat. "As in some talking therapy?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Raven says it'll help with – with Emori and disconnecting and all that crap."

"I hope it will." Jackson offers, soothing. "I'll see you for half an hour at ten-thirty tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Perfect. Thanks."

With that Murphy is gone, and Jackson is left to blink, slightly stunned, at his retreating back.

…...

After Murphy, it seems like the floodgates open, and suddenly Jackson is in high demand for talking therapy of various sorts. He feels a little ill-qualified for it, really. He's taught himself some theory and some strategies from reading a bunch of old resources. But people seem to trust him, and say that sessions with him help, so he supposes he's the best therapist the Ark is going to be able to produce any time soon.

He finds it interesting that Murphy is the start of the rush. He never actually _hears_ Murphy recommend him to anyone, but based on the way that half the Ark seems to show up at the clinic saying that they've heard on the grapevine Jackson is an excellent therapist, he figures his sometimes friend has not kept silent.

All this means he's busier than ever in med bay, of course. He still does regular appointments for physical medicine, although Clarke takes over a few more of those as the days go by. But despite his increased workload he makes sure to spend plenty of time with Nate, too.

"My dad says hi." Nate tells him over supper tonight.

"That's kind of him. Send him my best wishes next time you see him." Jackson says absently.

"I will do. He thinks you're really great, you know."

Jackson frowns slightly. That's a sweet thought, but he barely knows his boyfriend's father. He very much doubts David Miller can possibly like him any more than he likes any other friendly acquaintance.

Nate reads his expression almost too well, of course. That's what happens when you've been together for many tough simulated years.

"He was actually saying he wishes he got to see both of us more often." Nate explains softly. "I always put him off when he says that. I don't like to push it because I know you miss your parents and I don't want to make you jealous or upset or whatever. But – you know, as fathers-in-law go, you could do worse."

"He'd like to see _both_ of us?" Jackson is still stuck on that point, really.

"Yeah. He'd love to. He barely got to know you in the simulation before he disconnected, but since we woke up I guess I've been going on about how great you are and he wants to get to know the guy who makes me so happy." Nate concludes, grinning broadly.

"So when you say _your dad_ thinks I'm really great, you mean _you_ think I'm really great." He teases.

"My dad likes you by association. He has to." Nate laughs. "But he really would like to get to know you better."

Jackson smiles softly. It was a sweet thought, he supposes, that Nate was worried about showing off his living father when Jackson's parents are dead. But really, he thinks it sounds nicer to have one father-in-law than no parental figures at all. He lost Indra when the simulation ended and he seems to have lost Abby a long time ago, he frets.

"Great. Let's have him over for lunch. Tomorrow?" He asks brightly.

Nate laughs. "Not tomorrow. But soon. He'll be so happy to be invited."

…...

Time passes – and the strangest thing is, time passes much the same in this world as it appeared to pass in the simulation. Jackson really does struggle to differentiate between simulation and reality, when he sorts through his memories. He supposes that's just something he's going to have to accept – that the simulation was real for him, as it was real for all of them, even though it took place in their heads.

Further proof, he thinks, that what goes on in the mind is still perfectly real and worth being concerned with.

He does a lot more work with mental health than physical, these days. In fact, by the time baby Aurelia Griffin-Blake comes along, that's the first bit of messy hands-on physical medicine he's had to deal with in ages. There aren't a lot of substantial surgeries happening in such a small and relatively healthy population, and anyway Clarke and Abby mostly have them under control.

He has to be a regular doctor more often, for a little while, as Clarke takes some maternity leave. He has to administer antibiotics and set broken bones and honestly, it's kind of dull. He likes helping people – always has and always will – but coming back to this side of medicine after so long preoccupied with the mind has confirmed something to him.

Delivering mental health therapies is his real calling in life.

…...

The day he knows he has made it starts like any other day of Clarke's maternity leave. He gets up early, squeezes a couple of quick CBT sessions in before breakfast. He eats a sad ration bar whilst gearing up for a morning of vaccinating babies, then spends his coffee break listening to Jasper summarise his mood journal for the week.

He's just scrubbing in for surgery when Abby corners him by the sinks.

"It's a bit tight round here without Clarke, isn't it?" She asks tiredly.

He nods. He's not sure he has the energy to speak.

"I'm going to take on another apprentice. I'll ask the school to send me some applicants who have excellent chemistry and biology grades. I know it's a lot to take someone on while we're already rushed but I think it's the right answer. Even when Clarke comes back, it can never hurt to have too many hands around here. I might even want to retire one day."

Jackson nods again, but his heart isn't quite in it. Suddenly the Ark has the resources to have medical staff to spare? He's not sure how he feels about all this.

"I've been thinking you should train an apprentice too." Abby says, totally matter of fact.

Jackson grins. This is exciting. This is a bit of recognition for his skills, acknowledgement that he is not just a junior doctor any more.

"You want us to have two medical apprentices at once?" He checks, because that seems unusual.

"No. Sorry – I thought it was obvious. I want you to train an apprentice therapist."

Jackson gapes. He stands there, half way through soaping up his arms, and gapes in shock. "Really? You – that would be allowed?" He asks, stunned.

"I should think so. It falls under healthcare – or I've decided it does – so if you and I say it's happening, I should think it's happening."

"You want it to happen?" He repeats, somewhere between ecstatic and totally taken by surprise.

"Yes. You've shown us all how important and valuable mental healthcare is. It's good to have a happier population. If the rationing department kick up a fuss I'll point out that you rarely prescribe medication so there's little cost. And numbers of minor illnesses, breathing difficulties and stomach complaints are down a lot since you started working more on the talking therapy side. I can't prove anything yet but no way is that a coincidence."

"So I can train an apprentice?" He's laughing, now, from sheer joy.

"Yes, Eric." Abby smiles indulgently at him. "But I need you to calm down enough to help me out with this surgery before you go pick someone out."

"Too late. I've already chosen." He says easily.

"You have?"

"Harper McIntyre. Couldn't ask anyone else." It's the name that came to him right away when Abby mentioned the idea – Harper is kind and calm, with a range of simulated life experiences, and was one of the first to embrace what Jackson has been trying to do, here.

So that's it. That's the day Jackson truly decides he is one of the lucky ones – not just a survivor but _happy_ to have survived, not just gainfully employed but truly embracing his calling in life.

Not just happy, but helping others to find happiness, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
